Novice Mistakes
by RedCatEye
Summary: Altaïr comes back to the Jerusalem bureau, bloodied and bruised. Malik helps him. (Originally posted to AO3) Warnings: Non-consensual groping, Malik being a jerk. EDIT: The "code" problem is fixed, I believe. If it isn't, then you can read the story on my AO3 account, ThatRedLover009.


"Brother, open the grate!"

Malik was busy making maps when he'd heard the outcry. It had already been annoying enough that Altaïr was bothering him when he first came into the bureau to ask for suggestions about his latest target but now this was just pissing him off. He walked over to the corner of the room and gripped the pole he uses to push the entrance of the building open but he didn't make a move to go outside and actually help the novice.

After a few seconds, he was jolted back into an urgency when Altaïr slammed the vambrace of his hidden blade against the metal of the roof entrance. "Allah dammit, Malik, I know you are in there! Let me in this instant!"

The Dai went out of the office, pole in his remaining hand, as he looked up at the wounded assassin. If he had both of his arms, Malik would've crossed them, but he'd hoped that an arched eyebrow and a cocky smile would get his point across.

Once Altaïr saw that his brother was below him inside the safety of the bureau, he released a shaky sigh of relief. "Thank Allah, Malik. Now, quickly, open the grate so that I may rest. And perhaps acquire medical assistance," The younger assassin rambled, his right arm clutched around his bleeding waist - not much blood, Malik noted, probably just a shallow gash - as his left hand gripped an iron bar of the metal door. "As you can probably tell by the blood staining my robes-"

"Oh, you're going to have to go to an infirmary if you require help, Altaïr." Malik said, that same smile remained on his face. "You should have known better than to come back here while the guards were still running after you."

The Master Assassin's expression changed to that of pure rage, once more slamming his vambrace onto the metal. "I had no choice, Malik."

"There he is!" "Capture him!"

Altaïr looked somewhere behind him, golden eyes widening as the guards were a few rooftops away. It seems they were not as graceless as he thought they were and now he was quickly regretting his underestimation of them. He turned his attention back to Malik below.

"Brother, please!"

Malik tilted his head to the side, enjoying Masyaf's greatest assassin reduced to nothing more than a frightened child. It made him laugh quietly, seeing Altaïr helpless and begging to be given sanctuary.

The younger man did not seem to share the older's delight, though. "Malik, let me in right now! Please, please!"

He was quickly grabbed by the hood and pulled to a standing position, the taller guard wrapping an arm around the Master Assassin's neck from behind while the other one tried to shield himself from Altaïr's flailing legs. The guards laughed at the assassin's pleads to be saved. And oh, it seems Altaïr had learned another way to beg.

"Have mercy on me, brother! Please!"

He tried to fight, the young novice, he truly did. But each time he managed to escape and attempt to run to another safe location, he was instantly pulled back and pushed into a humiliating position. Altaïr's face was pushed against the metal of the closed entryway and Malik waited for the right moment, the right opportunity to open the grate.

But each second he waited, more of Altaïr's robes were ripped off his body and hands were hungrily, impatiently ran across his chest. And it was getting difficult to listen to the proud, stoic Master Assassin of Masyaf plead to be let inside, to be treated of his painful wounds and to not be touched in such a sexual way.

"N-No!" More of the miserable wailing continued to come from Altaïr's mouth, words Malik never thought to hear from him. "M-Malik, please help me! Stop this! Help!"

Finally, the man holding the assassin still stepped back, causing Altaïr's feet to be on the entrance but the guards were not. Malik quickly reached the pole up, opening the entrance with ease and Altaïr came falling down onto the ground. Thankfully, the fall wasn't that bad and he looked alright. The Dai unsheathed a few of the younger man's throwing knives, hoping that his aim was still correct, as he threw the four knives. Fortunately, the items hit their targets, the metal objects burying into the guards' chest, two for each.

The perverted pigs fell back, which Malik was thankful for, as he reached the pole back up to push the gate close once more before tending to Altaïr. He moved the novice to the pile of pillows he called a bed to further inspect the wounds.

He was correct in his assumption that the wound at Altaïr's right hip was a mere gash. But he had to clean and dress it for who knows how long the stubborn novice was running before he finally made it back to the bureau. Malik hastily collected the items necessary and returned at the younger man's side.

Altaïr was fast asleep on the small mount of pillows. Malik didn't blame him: He had been through a long, grueling day and he had been molested atop of the very place he deemed safe. The Dai removed the novice's robes that covered his torso, which Altaïr did not seem to be thrilled about as he grasped what remained of his robes even in his sleep.

It took a while but after waking the novice up to explain why they needed to remove the robes, Altaïr finally sat up, took his robes off and laid back down on his uninjured side so Malik can properly work. The wounds and cuts were cleaned and wrapped in bandages if necessary and Malik didn't want to wake the younger assassin up so he just draped the tattered robes over Altaïr's body to act as a blanket. After Malik did so, the novice curled up into the makeshift blanket and murmured something about the situation being patronizing.

Malik smiled and settled his hand on Altaïr's thigh, patting lightly.

"Get some rest, novice."


End file.
